As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace at Christmas.
He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay’s kids’ stockings were overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.
One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don’t sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown.
If you’ve never been in an X-rated store, don’t go. You’ll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, “What does this do?” “You’re kidding me!” “Who would buy that?”
Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll. One that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the carpool lane during rush hour.
Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I’d only seen in a book on animal husbandry.
I settled for ‘Lovable Louise.” She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a “doll” took a huge leap of imagination.
On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise’s pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more.
We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door.
“What the hell is that?” she asked.
My brother quickly explained, “It’s a doll.”
“Who would play with something like that?” Granny snapped. I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut.
“Where are her clothes?” Granny continued.
“Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran,” Jay said, trying to steer her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless.
“Why doesn’t she have any teeth?”
Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, ”Hang on Granny! Hang on!”
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, ” Hey, who’s the naked gal by the fireplace?”
I told him she was Jay’s friend.
A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa’s last Christmas at home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa.
The dog screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants. Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember
Later in my brother’s garage, we conducted a thorough examination and found the cause of Louise’s collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called gorilla tape, we restored her to perfect health.
Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies. I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.
My takeaway from this story is that one should remember to check the "Max PSI" label on their inflatable companion.
We have weird cats. Most of them seek out boxes or other enclosures to provide comfy little nooks for napping. Mrs. Cow recently received a package that came with plastic airbags surrounding the fragile contents. She put this box atop an old dresser in the garage and included the airbags. The very next day the box was found flipped over on the garge floor with all but one of the airbags still intact. Some poor kitty cat probably got the shock of it's life when it accidentally punctured an airbag with a claw.
However. it is now occupied daily with no more upsets.
"Weird" is a good word to use when describing cats. Each of our herd has their own weird personality. But we love them just the same. Lucky for us, none of them seem to be interested in destroying the Christmas tree, unlike the stories we read and the videos we watch.
I took a couple of my survey helpers into one of those stores like the one in the story. We were surveying down the road a bit and they kept wondering what kind of goods would be sold at a store simply called "Hillbillies". These young men were the product of a family of holy rollers. Their eyes had not been allowed to gaze upon the sorts of items stocked in such a den of iniquity.
Startled would be the mildest term I can think of to describe their educational experience. It was the only thing they wanted to talk about for the rest of the day. "Who would buy something like THAT?"
